


Honey

by MillieMay



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29183103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MillieMay/pseuds/MillieMay
Summary: Jessica is finally going on her very first public date with Gil and she needs everything to go off without a hitch.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Jessica Whitly
Comments: 28
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [youngghosts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngghosts/gifts), [the gilica gc](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the+gilica+gc).



> Hello!! After last week’s sequence I just couldn’t get this idea out of my head and had to write it down but I promise I am working on the next chapter of fywbym. Hopefully this angsty little one shot can keep y’all happy until then!! Enjoy!!!

Jessica spins in the mirror for the hundredth time, reassessing the dress Ainsley picked out all over again. Not that she doesn’t trust her daughter’s decision, no, her intuition is normally on point. However, absolutely nothing can go wrong tonight. She has worked 21 years to have this night.

When Gil asked her to dinner out of the blue she’d almost dropped her tea. Sure they’d unofficially been dating for a couple weeks but dinner felt solidifying. A public statement would be made, tabloids would explode with headlines how _The Surgeon’s ex-wife has a new man in her life._ It will be all over the news by tomorrow.

Oh, Martin would be so furious.

The thought makes her smile even wider.

Almost on cue her phone begins to ring, with her tongue pressed behind her teeth she checks the caller ID. Relief spreads through her at the picture that pops on the screen. She picks it up, holding it to her ear. “Couldn’t wait to see me?” She teases with a flirtatious lull.

“Nope.” Gil pops the end of the word and she can hear the giddiness in his tone. It fills her chest with a warmth that has been so rare over the past few months. It leaves her feeling like she should be dancing through the hallways like a drunken teenager. So carelessly free that her happiness can’t be contained.

Even Malcolm and Ainsley have joined in on the feeling. They’ve shared family dinners with Gil at the table more than a few times now. Ainsley bouncing with glee at their hands clasped together and Malcolm sitting a little taller with each exchanged glance. Her family, at last, feels complete.

“I was just calling to let you know I’m running a little late. We’re polishing off a case but I will be there as soon as I can.”

“Oh, that’s fine. I haven’t even left yet. I want to make sure I look perfect.” She passes by a mirror and checks her hair once again, fluffing the curls with her free hand.

“You would look beautiful in pajamas.”

“You say that because you have the dream of me in one of your turtlenecks.” His chuckle sends fire running through her veins and she bites her bottom lip.

“I prefer you with nothing on, actually.” She stammers thoughtlessly, her brain short circuiting after being beaten at her own game. His laugh sends a blush across her chest and she coughs trying to pull herself together. “Did I actually just make a Whitly speechless?”

“Hardly.” She purrs making a swift recovery from being thrown off track. “Just didn’t know if you wanted everyone at your work to know.”

“I don’t care. Let them know.” Now she really feels like dancing across the room.

“Oh, you’re definitely getting a treat tonight.”

“Promise?” Her laugh cuts off when she hears a door close from the other room. She pokes her head out the door of her bedroom and listens for a moment. “Jess?” She hears the line call out to her at the sudden silence. Sure enough she can hear footsteps coming from the main hall.

“Malcolm!” She calls out, “You really should have called to let me know you’d be coming. I was just about to head out!” She shakes her head when her son doesn’t respond. She huffs pulling the phone back to her ear. “Sorry about that.”

“Jess, Malcolm is still here.” Gil’s voice sounds apprehensive. “I’m looking at him right now.” Her heart thumps heavily in her chest. She knows he has a window in his office and it makes sense that Malcolm would be there at least until he left, determined to see these cases all the way until the end.

“Well it can’t be Ainsley, she goes on air in an hour.” She tries to laugh away the anxiety pooling in her stomach. Something doesn’t feel right. She shakes out her hand grabbing her clutch from her vanity. “It must be Adolpho. I have been taking much longer than usual.” The half hearted noise Gil makes is indicative that he’s not convinced. Truth be told, she isn’t either. Adolpho had only ever come inside to check on her once and it was when Ainsley was so sick that she had to cancel attending a gala all together to take care of her.

She’s just overreacting though, it has to be Louisa. Or maybe Ainsley forgot a file and came back to the house to retrieve it. Surely she’s imagining that the footsteps sound heavier than she’s familiar with.

Surely.

“Jess, stay there. I’ll be there soon. Don’t hang up.” She could hear him gathering his things over the line and barking out an order to another officer about finishing up the file. He should bring Malcolm, she thinks absentmindedly. Just in case something were to happen.

She shakes her head trying to will the dark thought away. She’s just anxious, is all. Maybe she hadn’t heard anything at all. She rounds the corner of the dining room trying to compose her best annoyed look to mask her deepest fears. However it fell as quickly as it appeared when she laid eyes on the person standing there.

Martin stands in the middle of the room, his eyes tracing over the walls with an almost gleeful smile on his face. A brown jacket covers his white psychiatric ward uniform. Briefly, she recognizes the jacket from his office in the basement. It should have gone up in flames with the rest of his things; it made no sense for it to be there.

This has to be a nightmare.

That’s it. This is a sick twisted nightmare from her subconscious. She just needs to wake up. Yet when he turns around to face her with that smile she stumbles back all the same. She crashes into the bar cart sending the glasses and bottles crashing to the floor with her weight. The pain that echoes through her side is a horrific confirmation.

This isn’t a dream.

“I have to go.” Her voice is thick, betraying the fear in her tone. She hears Gil try to fight but she hangs up anyways. Martin has always been jealous of Gil. It was probably safer to keep him busy until Gil arrived. Not let him know. However, when her eyes meet his she instantly regrets every choice she made.

“Jessie!” The nickname alone makes her feel sick to her stomach. She should have trusted her intuition. Run to the back and hid there until Gil came to get her. She should have listened, fuck. “It’s remarkable how different it all looks. Love what you’ve done with the place.”

“Martin-” Her voice barely comes out in a whisper. She swallows before trying again, “What are you doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m home!” Now she really feels sick, gripping onto the cart for the support her heels are denying her. He spreads his arms like expects something; what a hug? She shuts down the expression of disgust before it crosses her features. She stands up straight, steeling herself with a cold gaze. All the while her hand reaches behind her for something, anything to protect herself with. She feels a sense of calm when her fingers successfully wrap around the heavy metal shaker. “I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?”

‘No,” She sighs. “That was just Malcolm.” The lie spills off her tongue effortlessly. In any other setting she’d tell the truth and revel in rubbing it in his face. He tilts his head with narrowed eyes. If he senses that she’s being anything other than truthful, he doesn’t say. But he senses the lie regardless, of course the pathological liar would. She would need to do better than that.

“You’re awfully dressed up to be spending the night alone.”

“I’m not.”

“Oh,” His face darkens and she stumbles to find a new purchase.

“I have a meeting with the new investors of the Sanders’ Foundation. I made a promise to Malcolm that I’d carry on Eve’s charity after she passed. We’re officially signing tonight. It’s a celebratory dinner.” It’s not entirely a lie. She had that meeting last week, not tonight. When his posture straightens up she lets herself breathe a little easier.

“Well you look beautiful. Personally I’ve always preferred you in red, but the green is lovely too.” She weighs her options as he steps closer. The shaker is heavy and if she’s accurate she can stun him at least. From there her plans are null. Where can she run to where he wouldn’t know about, that he wouldn’t suspect from her. One of the guest rooms would work but she’s outmatched if she gets caught.

It’d be safer to play along. “Can I make you a drink?” He glances down at the shattered bottles with a raised eyebrow. “I have more in the kitchen.”

“Where is my boy?”

“Finishing off a case. Surely he talked to you about the-”

“The Candyman, yes I’ve been keeping up with Ainsley’s broadcasting. Riveting stuff.” He smiles, an empty one devoid of all emotion. “Where is she? I’ve been wishing to speak with her for,” He sighs. “Well for ages.”

Absolutely not. Her protective instincts shift into high gear. At least at the precinct Malcolm is safe from him, however she doesn’t trust Ainsley’s studio enough. She would not send him directly to her. No matter what it cost her. “Surely trying to get a closing argument from her brother that’s actually on the record.” Martin guffaws at that, the harsh sound causing her to jump. The sound stops as soon as it started when his eyes land on something new.

“Who’s that from.” It’s not a question. His eyes are trained on the bracelet on her wrist. It’s a simple thing, far less attention grabbing than anything else she’d worn in the past. A simple gold chain with two birthstones intertwined, Malcolm and Ainsley’s. It’d been a birthday gift that she wore fondly.

From Gil.

“Jessie.” The tone comes out as a warning. His eyes are trained on her but with his head tilted upwards his eyes are focused down. Like he’s looking down on her. As if he has any right to the truth, much less to _her._

A lie here would be pointless. He knows it’s nothing either of the children would have gotten her. Gifts between the three of them rarely ventured outside of an expensive bottle of alcohol. Who needed them when they could buy anything they could possibly want? Truth be told, the bracelet having been the first gift she’d received in over 15 years brought tears to her eyes.

Of course she had to pick tonight to wear it.

“It’s from Gil.” She’s proud that her voice doesn’t shake with the statement. Her entire body is doing enough of that just standing a few feet from this man. 

“You have a date.” The last word spits out like venom. She tightens her jaw, anger blossoming beneath her chest. How dare he? As he steps forwards again she makes the split second decision.

She swings the cup with all of her might, ready to bolt as soon as she makes connection with his head.

She almost did. He, however, seemed just as prepared for the attack catching her wrist in his hand with ease. The cup clatters loudly to the ground as she drops it, all the momentum of her anger dissipating in a split second.

For a frightening moment they are chest to chest. She can feel his breath fanning her face while his unreadable gaze traces over her features. This close she’s almost certain he can feel how fast her heart is beating, that he can read the fear beneath her rage, he can feel the tremor of her wrist clasped tight in his grip.

Three swift knocks stop whatever he planned to say or do. Strong, heavy raps indicative of the police at her doorstep. For a moment she’s not certain that he will even react. His face an absolutely terrifying blank slate. Then a lighter, much more frantic knock.

“Mom!” She can hear Malcolm calling out to her. “Mom, open the door!”

She watches the switch in Martin’s eyes, a teasing laugh escaping his lips. “Our children have always had horrible timing.”

“I should get that.” She whispers side stepping out of his way. Yet as she walks, he pulls her wrist back spinning her to face him again. He’s making a decision, she recognizes in horror. Whether to take her with him or let her go. She bites her cheek so hard that she can taste copper on her tongue.

She would put up a hell of a fight.

She would lose.

He draws her hand to his lips pressing a kiss to it with a smile. “I’ve missed you. I’ll see you soon.” And he let’s go.

She doesn’t hesitate to see where he goes. In all honesty, it doesn’t matter to her in the slightest as she rushes to the door. Safety is so close but the hallways feel like they stretch forever with Malcolm’s pleading tone getting farther and farther.

Wrenching the door open to see Malcolm and Gil staring at her terrified feels like waking up from a nightmare. Malcolm crashes into her with a quick hug that she barely has time to return before he’s rushing off to see what the hell had spooked her over the phone. Gil’s face is stone, looking at her with a mixture of worry and annoyance.

He knows. Only one person in the world can scare her that much.

“Jess,” He sighs, relief and comfort soothing her fears. “Are you alright?” She shakes her head, almost indecipherably as the tears finally slide down her face. All the rage, terror, and anxiety of the past few minutes crashing over her as she falls into his arms. Gil is the only thing holding her upright as she slips into the cascade with Martin’s threat still ringing in her ears.

_I’ll see you soon._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all really popped off with the reception on this story so I had to develop it into more than just a oneshot. With the help of the gilica gc and ofc Em I've actually got a plan to make this a 3-4 part story. I am so thankful that y'all loved it so much and honestly once the questions of a second part came in I couldn't get it out of my head either. So here y'all go, I once again have little to no impulse control so I'm publishing this right after I finished writing it. Enjoy!!

_ The insistent buzzing of her phone wakes Jessica from her deep sleep. She blinks a few times sucking in a deep breath, not remembering when she’d managed to slip asleep. The bright lumination on her phone lights up the dark room. It’s well past midnight, that much she can tell from the heaviness of her body. She must have been out a few hours. _

_ She swings her hand out, scrunching her nose in annoyance at the interruption. She can’t remember the last time she’d slept so deeply. She turns down the brightness before checking the messages.  _

_ 8 missed calls from Malcolm _

_ 12 missed calls from Ainsley _

_ 5 missed calls from Gil _

_ Panic surges through her as she turns over, unlocking her phone to check her messages. _

_ Mom please pick up - Ainsley _

_ Where are you? - Gil _

_ He’s coming. - Malcolm _

_ Her stomach bottoms out as she scrolls through more panicked messages. The bed shifts and a low hum echoes from behind her as an arm slides around her waist. She doesn’t dare to move a muscle. _

_ “Jessie, what are you doing up?” The voice croons, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. Her phone lights up again, buzzing insistently. Martin smiles against her skin, “Is that our boy?” _

Jessica shoots out of bed with a gasp, her hands immediately wrapping around herself to protect her from his touch. She tries desperately to remind herself that it was only a dream but she can still feel his lips on her skin. There’s a shift somewhere by her feet and she jumps again. Her eyes fall on a shadow moving in the dark before it sits by her legs, reflective eyes shining at her.

Her location begins piecing together then. The rougher sheets, the small amount of light shining through the bedroom window, the soft stirring of the figure next to her.

Right, she’s at Gil’s. The shadow is one of his cats.

“Jess?” He hums, on cue. She doesn’t turn to him or relax. How can she possibly? She was chased out of her own home by the lingering threat of her escaped ex-husband. It’s been a week with absolutely no sign of him and it only made her night terrors get worse. No amount of pills or booze could chase away the dreams.

Gil sits up slowly, more than rehearsed with these nights. He’d been her constant tether since Martin’s escape, always close enough to catch her should she fall apart. In moments where she’s overwhelmed he will squeeze her arm, just enough to let her know she’s not alone in this.

She puts a hand out, palm facing upwards. It’s a small sign to him that he can touch her, that it won’t send her running. The first night, he’d placed a hand on her shoulder she’d sprung out of bed so quickly that she took out his nightstand and a lamp with her. All she could feel was Martin’s touch, still so fresh from when he was far too close.

Gil comes to position himself behind her so she’s sitting between his legs. One hand laces fingers with her upturned palm. He brings their hands to her chest enveloping her in a loose hug. The other brushes her untamed hair aside and he drops a kiss to the side of her neck. She forces herself to focus on the smell of his body wash as a reminder that this isn’t Martin.

“Nightmare?” She nods and he hums against her skin. She pulls his arm across her leaning against his frame. It helps her relax, if only a little, to be so close to him. Martin’s escape has been hell on all of them: Malcolm is a mess throwing himself fully into finding his father, full of anger and confusion that he has yet to even appear for him. Ainsley, on the other hand, is eager to avoid him, going so far as to stay with Dani until this passes. He had such a poor effect on her mental health after Endicott but Jessica is thankful that at least one of her children has some common sense.

She, herself, takes the brunt of the blows. The news hit rampant by the morning of Martin’s escape. She could hardly leave to make an official report at the station without being surrounded by reporters asking her incessant questions. She’d run from her own home to avoid being hounded and out from underneath her own paranoia. It felt like she wasn’t alone in there. Every corner, every shadow made her jump. Staying with Gil had been an easy decision. 

However, then came the nightmares. Haunting images of moments changed. Ainsley being home instead of her. Martin stealing Malcolm away in the dead of night. Another woman showing up dead. All of it too horrific and overwhelming for her to talk about, even with Gil’s gentle persuasions.

The phone ringing makes her jump and she instantly feels a rush of shame. “Sh, it’s okay.” Gil whispers rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. He leans back, eyes peering at phone screen in the dark. “It’s Malcolm.” She feels him hesitate. She knows he’s calling about the case. He calls Gil when he gets stuck, the conversation may stir something loose and he’ll have a breakthrough. 

“Go.” She pushes his hand away but he still lingers.

“Will you be ok?”

“I’ll be fine. Besides, I’ve got Atlas.” A small chirrup comes from the animal at her feet. A curious noise at his name being mentioned. Gil smiles affectionately turning to the cat.

“Keep an eye on her.” He leans forward kissing her on the lips before rushing off to the kitchen to talk to Malcolm in private. The conversation, she figures, would be a long one. She focuses her attention in on Atlas.

“Where’s your brother?” She asks, not really expecting a true answer and she runs her nails through the soft fur on his back. She was never really close with animals, never had any growing up. Her mother would have lost it at a dog tracking mud through her perfect linoleum floors. She supposes it’s the one thing that her mother left imprinted on her because it was the same thought she had when Ainsley incessantly begged for a puppy from ages 5 to 8.

It’d been Malcolm and Ainsley who had actually found the two cats camped out under her rose bushes two years prior. The poor things had been soaked to the bone and shivering uncontrollably. Her son had swept them up under his coat and brought them inside. It took very little convincing after that for Gil to take them in. Her home was far too big, Malcolm already has Sunshine, and Ainsley’s schedule isn’t fitting for pets.

That didn’t stop the two of them from naming the cats before they even introduced them to Gil. The missing one named by Ainsley was Icarus and Malcolm followed suit with the theme naming the dark furred brother Atlas.

Jessica tries not to think too deeply of the meanings behind the names.

“He wouldn’t run. He would stay here, in the city.” Despite his best attempts she can still hear Gil through the walls. His apartment is much thinner than her empty home. The stress in his words carries to her. She swallows heavily trying not to focus in on the conversation but it’s almost second nature to listen in. “Where the hell could he be hiding, we’ve checked all of Jess’s real estate, we checked his childhood home. We’re missing something.”

She has to push down that feeling in her gut. The one that screamed every time she walked through her halls. A part of her knows exactly where he is, or at least heavily suspects.

He never left the home.

Her home had been combed over by several officers but they found nothing. At least, that’s what they said. However, decades without knowing of murder tunnels beneath her home left her more than a little skeptical of knowing exactly what was in her own halls. She was more than certain, Martin is still in her home.

And it would take one of them to draw him out.

Gil pokes his head into the room interrupting her thoughts. She tries not to look suspicious, acting like her focus has been on Atlas rather than the search of her ex-husband. He must be convinced because he smiles sadly at her. “I’m going to see Malcolm. Do you want me to call Ainsley and see if she’ll stay with you?” As if on cue she hears Icarus call out, as if her own daughter were trying to stop her plans.

“I’m fine.” She smiles at him trying not to let the lump in her throat betray her. This will provide her just the window she needs. “How long will you be gone?”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise.” Her heart hurts a little at that. Knowing what exactly he will return to. But it’s for the best. 

She’s going to end this.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She steps out of the taxi feeling the sense of dread grow thicker in her stomach. The lingering feeling of death with every click of her heels down the familiar sidewalk. Her keys shake as she unlocks the front door disabling the alarm system before it can notify the cops that someone has entered the home.

The home feels impossibly large as she steps inside. The hallways are silent, everything just as she left it a week prior. She completely dismissed all staff with paid leave until Martin was found. God forbid some poor housemaid find him and be killed for simply doing her job. Each step screamed at her more to run. She turns heel for the bookshelf, knowing exactly what to look for.

Her fingers run over the spines finding the one she was searching for with ease. A hollowed out copy of  _ The Story Without an End  _ sits on the shelf perfectly disguised among the other vintage books. She flips open the cover, eyes falling on the pistol still lying perfectly inside. It’s precautionary, she tells herself. She’s in a house with a serial killer, she needs to be able to protect herself. The weight of the gun feels like the whole world rests in her hands.

“Jessie?” Her muscles seize up at the tone. He can’t be more than a few steps behind her. Her own thundering heart must have disguised the sound of his steps. “I knew you’d be back.” She closes the book, placing it back on the shelf before he can see. “What are you doing?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all know the drill. I have absolutely no impulse control and once I finished this I had to put it up! This chapter was so much fun to write bc I haven't really gotten to write a scene like this in a couple of years. I was absolutely giddy every time I sent Em a new bit and they matched my giddiness. Hope y'all enjoy it as much as I did writing it. Thanks to em (once again) for helping me with Martin's bit. Without you none of this would be possible

Jessica’s eyes still linger on the book as she hears Martin come closer behind her. It’s not too late to make a drastic move. But no, she refuses to stoop to his level. She came here to put an end to this, not to kill him. She will draw him out, force him back to Claremont. She takes a deep breath but it’s punched out of her again when she turns to see him.

He’s dressed just like before. A sweater and a nice pair of slacks, his normally unruly curls were tamed. If it weren’t for his salt and peppered hair as well as the extra lines next to his eyes she’d say he looked relatively unchanged after 20 years. 

Where the hell did he even find those?

“I came to talk.” She sighs, dropping her shoulders. It’s subtle but he takes it as her lowering her defenses. In reality, every single fiber of her being wants to take off towards the door. He smiles gesturing for her to begin. “This has to end.”

“What does?” 

“All of this. These  _ games. _ ” The word tastes like poison in her mouth. That’s all this was to him, a game to win. In the meantime she doesn’t know if she’ll ever feel safe here again, if she’ll ever feel comfortable alone ever again. They’re just pawns for him to manipulate to his sick desires. “Malcolm is a mess looking everywhere for you.”

“And yet you knew exactly where I was.” Her jaw snaps shut. Of course she did. He didn’t need to leave, not when they’d come right to him. It was inevitable. Malcolm would come to reinvestigate to see what they missed. He would come alone and god knows what Martin would do. She came to stop just that. “Where is my boy?”

“He’s at home. Sleeping.” His nose scrunches at the word home. Martin would never associate their homes as anywhere but here. No matter how much Malcolm’s apartment fit him more, or how Ainsley’s style reflected more on her own. The disgust is enough for him to miss the lie buried at the end.

“I need to see him.”

“You need to go back to Claremont.”

“Where they’ll put me in solitary for god knows how long?” He scoffs with a small laugh. “No thank you.” 

“This can’t go on forever. What are you going to do? Hide in here for the rest of your life?”

“Like you’ve been hiding from here? From  _ me? _ ” She straightens sucking in a breath. “Tell me Jessie,” All of the pleasantness has been sucked from his voice. “Where have you been?”

“Staying with Malcolm.”

He grins, the one that's out the side of his mouth tossing his head aside in disbelief. “We both know that’s not true.”

Her blood freezes trying to read that expression. How the hell could he possibly have known that? He has to be bluffing, there’s no way he’d be able to tell where she’s been after this week. She’d hardly left Gil’s at all. Most days were spent locked in front of the TV or her phone watching for any sight of him.

“Malcolm’s apartment is quite nice. Lots of natural light but I’m assuming that’s your doing. You always did love big windows.” She shakes her head, surely he’s lying. Malcolm fell out the window after a bad night terror. That’s how he has to know that. “It’s nice. So empty. So much potential.” Every nerve in her body jumps to attention then. “And Goya? Such a nice piece. So sweet of Ainsley to find that for him.”

Her heart bottoms out at that, knowing exactly what he’s referring to. Her son, always one for the more macabre, had a fascination with that painting;  _ Saturn Devouring His Son.  _ It had been a gift one Christmas. Ainsley had it put up with the statement that his walls were too bare. The true mark left behind was Ainsley’s small message to him etched into the frame.

“Now let’s try that again, where  _ were you? _ ” The way he asks the question is like he knows the answer already. She’s still stuck though, that he has left. He has been to Malcolm’s when he isn’t home.

The realization makes her nauseous. Where else has he been?

“How  _ is  _ the lieutenant?” Her fear melts away to anger once again. The absolute gall that he has to act like she’s the one that betrayed him. Like she was the one that broke their family apart. He shifts before she can speak, eyes sparkling for a second. “You know, when you came in I expected it to be Malcolm. I knew he would figure it out eventually. But you surprised me Jessie.” The smile alone makes her want to take off. “Though you’ve always understood me, haven’t you? You’ve just been too afraid to admit it.”

“Liar.” She sneers.

“There it is!” He whoops, throwing his hands up. “Now we are getting somewhere. Come on. Say what you really mean.”

“You’re a bastard.”

He hisses, “Language!”

“Fuck you.”

He hums with eyebrows raised. “Is that an offer?” She is unable to contain the disgust that radiates off her face. “Now, you’re going to hurt my feelings.”

“Your  _ feelings? _ ” She feels all of her patience snap in that moment. All of her frustrations from the past week, the nightmares, watching Malcolm unravel at the seams, Gil working himself into the dust to find his ass, Ainsley’s worried glances. All of it. Twenty years of anger hits the surface fast. “You left  _ us.  _ Not the other way around. You  _ murdered  _ 23 people! I moved on because I had to. You ate this family  _ alive. _ ” The deep note betrays the heartbreak beneath the words and she has to bury the sadness that comes up with the words. “Malcolm didn’t speak for months. Ainsley kept asking where her dad went. I am  _ not your wife. They are not your children _ . I raised this family from the dirt that you buried us in.”

“Malcolm is  _ my son. _ ”

“No, he is  _ mine. _ ” She snaps. “And Ainsley is  _ my  _ daughter. I raised them and I did it alone because you were never a man. You were and you are a  _ monster. _ ”

“You didn’t raise Malcolm alone.” She knows what he means but she softens for just a moment.

“You’re right.” He smiles and she takes so much joy in knocking him down again. “I don’t know what I would have done without Gil. Or Jackie for that manner.” All the pleasure he’d been getting from messing with her vanishes in that split second. It’s her turn to twist the knife. “Doesn’t that eat you up inside? How Malcolm despised what you became so much that he became the opposite. He wanted to be a surgeon just like his dad but instead he went into the FBI. Now he catches monsters  _ like you. _ ”

“That’s enough.”

“And Ainsley? She tells the stories. The ones that deserve to be heard. Not yours. Not theirs. But this is what you wanted isn’t it? The family business.” The words come out spitting. “You knew that day, didn’t you. As Gil pulled you away you knew that you  _ lost.  _ And you’ve been trying to make up ground ever since.”

“Enough!” He roars and she rears away. Her back hits the bookshelf with a thud. “It’s all yours, hm?” He steps closer still. “ _ Your  _ house,  _ your  _ children,  _ your  _ perfect little family. Tell me, how proud were you when Ainsley sliced the throat of your boy toy?” All of the color leaves her face and she has to bite the inside of her cheek from making a noise. “How about when she stabbed him  _ seven times _ after that.” She flinches at the information that she hadn’t known. They didn’t talk about it and she only knew the loose details. “They didn’t tell you, did they?” He throws his head back with an explosive laugh. “ _ Your  _ son chopped up his body with the saw in the basement. But they didn’t trust to tell you that.”

She stands completely still, trying not to let her emotions to the surface. She forces herself to become a wall because otherwise he would shatter her. His words bounce in her head and she knows the echo will haunt her.

“No. They trusted  _ me.  _ Malcolm asked  _ me _ how to clean your rug. He asked  _ me  _ how to get his sister out of this. You found out because of a book on a silver platter.” Her shoulders square, taking on the brunt of his words. Tears build quickly behind her eyes as her hands, firmly clenched by her sides shake with the force she tries to suppress. “They hid it from you. Not because they’re afraid of me. No, because they’re afraid of what it would do to  _ you. _ ”

“Be quiet.” She growls.

“This is what you wanted isn’t it Jessie?” He shrugs with a wide eyed expression. “You wanted to talk. Malcolm, he was always resistant. But Ainsley, oh my sweet girl, she didn’t even hesitate.” He places both hands over his heart. “She just needs one more push, doesn’t she? Is that why she hasn’t come looking for me? Is that why she’s staying with Detective Powell? You’re keeping her away from me. We’ve talked about it before, you know, how you’re just keeping her from her true potential. Even now.”

She reaches behind her ripping the book off the shelf over her shoulder. She flips it open drawing the gun with practiced ease. “Shut up!” She screams as he takes a step back. “Stop! Just stop!”

His laugh vibrates through the air as he shakes his head. “There’s the smoke I fell in love with.” He licks his lips drawing something from the pocket of his pants. “Though, you should really pick a better hiding spot than Ainsley’s favorite book.” Her eyes widen in horror when he shows off what he has in his hand. The ammo for the pistol twinkles in the lights of the room.

She swings the pistol making contact with his head before he can even react. The impact of the hit sends him to the ground with a loud crash. She moves to run past him but he catches her ankle bringing her down with a painful thud as well. The force knocks the breath out of her and sends the pistol skidding across the linoleum floors where it slides under a dresser lining the walls. She kicks herself free of his grip digging her heel into his shoulder as he tries to pull her back to him.

She pushes herself up and runs through the labyrinth of hallways, not entirely sure herself where she’s heading. She reaches a window but abandons it quickly when it doesn’t budge. She finds herself in the kitchen, jumping as she hears Martin call out her name far too close for comfort.

She pulls a knife from the block on the counter weighing her options momentarily. It’s not worth it, she decides again as she bolts into the back hallways where Louisa would track in order to move easily. She allows herself only a moment to catch her breath, listening for him as she leans heavily against a wall. Her shoulder aches from where she tried to catch herself but she shoves the pain down for now. She can hear him as he roams from room to room. Ripping open each cupboard, closet, and cabinet along the way. It feels horrifically similar to when Malcolm and Ainsley would run the halls playing hide and seek with him.

They never could beat him at the game.

The closer he gets the more her hand shakes. She should hide, preferably somewhere that will give her advantage to attack as he’s opening it. Her body is woefully uncooperative though, her feet frozen to the spot as she tips her head against the wall. Tears are running in hot tracks down her cheeks as she thinks about Malcolm or Ainsley finding her here, like this.

Her heart drops to her stomach when she hears a car door close from outside. It’s so quiet she tries to convince herself that she was mistaken. She shuts her eyes tightly as she suppresses the sob that tries to shake it’s way out of her chest.

_ Our children have always had horrible timing. _

She forces herself to move again, making the painful journey to the front door. Her ankle that he grabbed protests every step. If she can get them away before they see this, she has to try.

“You.” She stops dead in her tracks at Martin’s voice. It’s ahead of her. Directed to the person who had entered the home. Filled with so much anger and poison that she knows exactly who it is.

Gil.

She moves quicker, being sure to step on carpets to avoid her heels clicking on the floor and alerting Martin of where exactly she is. The second she gives herself away, well. She’s not sure what will happen. But she’s sure as hell she won’t let Gil fall on the blade because of her. Not again.

She peaks her head from behind the corner, relieved to see Martin’s back to her. The quick glimpse is enough to confirm that it is Gil at the door. She holds her breath listening for a moment. “You’ve come to play the hero yet again, huh Gilly? No back up either, honestly you’d think you would have learned your lesson the first time.”

In the light of the room Jessica catches the glint of silver metal in his hand. For a few fearful beats she has to steady herself. Martin has her gun, he must have picked it up when she  ran. She has to move, she has to do something. Her eyes meet Gil’s over his shoulder, his only widening for half a second. It’s a warning, she recognizes. A sign for her to run and hide again. He will handle this.

“You stole my family. You stole  _ my wife!  _ You stole  _ my children!”  _ Martin continues to step towards him, waving the pistol around. She has no idea if he’s ever even fired a gun before much less held one.

Though she also had no idea he was a serial killer.

She waits, holding her breath for Gil to draw his weapon. Why the hell isn’t he drawing his gun? He holds his hands up slowly, showing he is unarmed. Oh,  _ oh god _ . Her mind flashes through every horrific scenario in her head. Each one more gruesome than the last. All ending with Gil dead on her floor and Martin with a sickening grin of victory.

She steps out from behind her corner. “Martin.” She whispers and it causes him to whip around. 

His eyes are less human than she’s ever seen before. She wonders briefly if this was the last thing those 23 women saw. As soon as he turns, his grimace turns to that grin. The one that always felt like a rock in her stomach, his chin tilted condescendingly. Her throat tightens and she doesn’t give herself a second to think.

The blade sinks into his stomach with sickening ease.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the ending of this story!! Now I can finally get back to find your way back to me and focus on the ending on that one. Thank you all so much for the support and love it means so much to me.

His scream is a horrible, deafening call of torment. It rattles her mind, bouncing her between now and back in his cell when Malcolm had done just the same. The gun clatters to the floor as Martin falls into her, his weight threatening to pull her down with him. His arms wrap around her, desperate to stay standing but it’s useless. The tangled embrace jerks her shoulder, tears of horror and pain building behind her eyes.

The smell of blood stings her nose, the warmth on her hand causes it to shake as she pulls the knife out of him. Strong arms around her abdomen wrench her away before she can fall. They’re the only thing that holds her upright when her legs threaten to give in. She briefly recognizes that it’s Gil when he sends the gun sliding across the floor with a kick. It’s far out of the reach of Martin who sits propped up against the wall.

“Jess, sweetheart. Let go.” Gil’s voice is next to her ear, gently coaxing her. She can’t let go. If she does then everything will fall apart. She can’t. “The knife.” She connects the meaning, her eyes falling down to the blood stained knife still held tightly in her hand. It takes more effort than she wants to before it clangs loudly off the floor before being knocked away as well.

She tries to breathe, to pull any air into her lungs but it feels like the walls are closing in on her. Nothing concrete remains anymore other than the sight of Martin, bleeding and in pain. Because of her.

She did this.

Her mind wanders to Ainsley, how Malcolm had described her after it happened. Her mind completely detached from her body. Unsure of her surroundings. Unsure of her actions.

Jessica is all too aware.

She stabbed him, god she stabbed him.  _ What has she done? _

“Jess.” Gil sounds more alarmed, she doesn’t even register that she’d been fighting against his grip until then. “Listen to me.”

She can’t. She  _ can’t.  _ Not when she can’t hear anything over the labored breathing and her own thundering heart. Not when her mind is racing so quickly that it’s making her feel like she could tip over at any second. Not when the air in the room feels way too thin.

It’s the laugh that cuts through her panic. A wheezing, breathless laugh coming from the crumpled figure with the all too horrible realization that Martin is still alive and he’s  _ laughing. _

“Jessie.” Gil tightens his arms around her, coming to the same realization at once. “I always knew you had it in you.”

“Come on, Jess.” He’s trying to pull her away but her legs are refusing to cooperate. Every step drags her helplessly along the ground. “We have to go.”

He smiles, the proud one that he gave her after every accomplishment that Malcolm or Ainsley did. With Malcolm’s first words, Ainsley’s first steps before she crashed into his arms. Her body began shaking beyond her control with Gil the only thing holding the broken pieces of her together. “Oh, we could have been great together.”

She wants to scream but every part of her has locked up. Finally, Gil is able to drag her from the room and into the next, placing her on the sofa as gently as he can. He sits with her until the paramedics come along with a hefty amount of police.

She pretends not to see the pitied looks as Dani passes her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She’s sitting outside on the back of the ambulance as another rushes Martin away to the hospital. She’s only half listening to the paramedic in front of her giving her instructions on how to care for her shoulder, which turns out, had dislocated when she fell. Her eyes linger on the spot where the other had driven away. Martin’s words still echo in her mind long after he’s gone.

_ He would live. _

The words from the paramedics were meant to be an assurance. A part of her hates herself for wishing he had died in that house. At least then the nightmare would be over. His ghost would join the 24 others that called her name at night but at least he couldn’t possibly cause them any more pain.

Right?

“Mom!” She hears the simultaneous shouts breaking her out of the trance. Ainsley and Malcolm are running towards her, the former a few steps behind as Malcolm’s legs carry him farther with fewer steps. Her son envelops her in a tight embrace only pulling back when she hisses in pain. She tried to hold it in but when he made contact with the shoulder it just came out.

His eyes shine with guilt but it’s quickly overshadowed by Ainsley crashing into the both of them, holding them close. Malcolm settles back into the hug again but he can feel his eyes on her. When they pull away she’s bombarded with questions.

“What were you thinking?”

“Was he really there the entire time?”

“What exactly was your plan?”

“How did the cops not find him?”

“Did you even  _ have  _ a plan?”

“Did you really stab dad?”

That question halts everything to a stop with Malcolm looking at Ainsley in a mixture of disbelief and confusion. It makes a laugh bubble inside her, but its quickly snuffed by her reality hitting her again.

“Malcolm, Ainsley.” They both look up to Gil calling their names. He’s walking back over, finally finished giving his statement to Dani about what had happened. A perfectly cut and dry version that the events were no more than self defense.

Then why did she still have so many questions?

“Will you go get your mother and I some food? Preferably Mel’s Diner if they’re not too busy.”

“But-” Ainsley’s protests are cut off by Malcolm’s hand on her shoulder. He gives her a knowing look, it’s a feeling he had tried to spare his mother from over a year ago. Complete understanding mixed with underlying sadness. At least now he was far away from them.

Yet she wonders how long before he will come to haunt them again.

Malcolm pulls Ainsley away with a hand on her arm, she sees them talking in a hushed tone to each other. It doesn’t take much to know they’re talking about her. Quiet wonderings of how much she remembers, what made her snap, and how she managed to get that close.

“Jess.” Gil calls to her now, a gentle hand on her thigh. The touch alone brings tears to her eyes. She can’t look at him. She takes a deep breath, expecting to see that same fear and pity in his gaze. The ones that all of Malcolm’s colleagues seemed to have when looking at her. Knowing that another Whitly had snapped. That they’ve become no better than the surgeon himself. “Sweetheart.”

He says it with such softness that she looks up at him. There’s no pity in his eyes, no fear. Even Malcolm had looked so afraid, his words about Ainsley resounding in her mind.

_ We might lose her. _

“Hey, look at me.” She hadn’t even realized she’d looked away again. His gaze is as gentle as his touch. “You saved me. That’s what happened there, nothing else. Got it?” She shakes her head, no that’s not true. She stabbed Martin, her ex husband, the father of her children. She did this. “Jessica,” Her name is harsher this time, bringing her more to a focus. “He was angry and armed. You did what you had to.”

“I didn’t want to.” She whispers.

“I know.” She tries to breath but it comes out choked. Like the world has a grip around her throat. “Let go.” She blinks in confusion, she’s not holding onto anything this time. What the hell could she possibly let go of. “It’s ok, Jess. I’ve got you.” His hand comes to brush through her hair. “Let go.”

Sobs wrack her shoulders as she leans her head into his chest. He wraps his arms around her and for the first time in a week she feels safe.


End file.
